


Small Talk

by superblooper



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superblooper/pseuds/superblooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemis would make some stars of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd! This was intended to be a little less porn-y, but it took a turn south and went straight for smut. I have have no regrets. :D

“Y’know, Gotham isn’t so bad.”

Artemis snorts. Usually she doesn’t let her ponytail down in uniform. Tricky snarls and stubborn knots start forming a literal five seconds after she frees her hair from its tie. But she usually doesn’t let conniving _teenager_ jerry rig her patrol into a stargazing session either. And, yes, although he’s legally an adult now, he’s still got a _teen_ at the end of his age number. Hence _teenager._

“A _stunning_ recommendation from Gotham’s shortest protector.”

Except he’s not really short anymore. And this isn't really stargazing. Gotham’s pollution chokes out all but the brightest stars, despite Ivy’s best efforts. So, really, it’s more like a game of I Spy. Scan the sooty gunmetal gray hovering over the city for those little pinpricks of white. Smile and see if they wink back. Then go back to watching the city lights bleed into the sky.

"Eh, you can't ever see the stars here."

"Didn't tell me you're an acrobat  _and_  an astronomer."

“Well, I do have such a _rich_ and _lush_ origin story... So, yeah, Gotham took a little while to get used to.”

 _Haley’s,_ Artemis thinks to herself. She remembers the ringleader's voice thrumming through air, feeding the hungry crowd, narrating the wonders hidden beneath the canvas of the big top. She remembers, and wonders what Dick felt like, being back there, with _his_ people- his _family_ in a sense. All that familiarity must’ve been nice. She’s hasn't asked. She doesn’t want to take the chance of hearing an ugly truth. If Dick ever wished he’d been left in the custody of Mr. Haley instead of Mr. Wayne, for instance. She never wants to hear that.

“Mmm, I’ll take the smell of smog over elephant shit any day.”

Dick makes an affronted noise. Out of the corner of her eye, Artemis glimpses his white lensed eyes blink owlishly at her. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of turning toward him. He’s got a weird thing with elephants. Ever since she’s connected him to the circus, she assumed he mucked out the stables or something. Got attached to one of the gigantic things and that was that. Artemis’s eyes still on a star directly overhead, seeing it but not really focusing on it.

“I’d take elephant shit over smog. It means having a pachyderm pal.”

He sounds hurt. But he has _no idea_ how much his words hurt her. Dick’s a mischievous little shit with way too much access to bat toys, but he’s never _malicious._ So he can’t know that his words were like a knife, slicing neatly between her ribs, leaving her open and wounded, quietly bleeding out. Artemis shrugs, and the gravel of the rooftop digs into the exposed skin of her shoulders and arms. Her bow and quiver are tucked leaned on the low wall lining the rooftop’s edge.

“You _really_ miss the clown makeup, don’t you, circus nerd?”

One day, she’ll work on subtlety. But for now, she’ll pretend that she doesn’t sound as furious as she does. She’ll down right deny any claims of vulnerability. She doesn’t do that kind of emotional crap. Too draining on her energy, which is better used for punching baddies till her knuckles break.

“What kind of question is that? Of _course_ I miss it. And I wasn’t a clown. I _flew.”_

Hearing that quiet wonder, that _reverence,in_ Dick’s voice scoops out her insides, leaving her eggshell fragile. He usually only gets his fanboy on when he talks about Superman, or, on occasion, Batman. Superman and Batman fit in with his life here, as a hero, as her teammate. The circus is something far off and out of her reach. That could be why her throat tightens impulsive when he talks about Haley’s like this.

“Then why don’t you go _back?_ It sounds like you were _really_ happy there.”

Sometimes her voice cracks and she wants to claw out her own throat for betraying her. Because, goddammit, could she have a bigger tell? Her arms fold protectively over the arrow insignia on her chest, scowling up at that lonely cold light above her. Memories rise up unbidden from the murky depths of her subconscious. She remembers, stumbling out into the fresh snow, wearing a stupid white and red costume, way more garish than Wally’s Kid Flash get up. She remembers huffing a laugh as M’gann followed, ice crunching underfoot. There's the sweet scent of kettlecorn curling around her nose, and she inhales deeply, the air clean and vitalizing. Around them, members of Haley's are Most of all, she remembers looking up at the sky and sucking in winter air into her lungs. There were millions of stars scattered above, happy gleams of light against a sky painted deep purple, blue, and velvety black.

She understands why Dick was happy there.

_“Artemis.”_

She glares at that single, measly star, using her peripheral to watch him prop himself up on his elbow, twisting to give her his full attention. She hates it. She’s too wound up, coiled, and angry to pretend otherwise. And since he’s the star pupil at the Bat Academy or whatever, he’s also reading the emotions curling her hands into fists. She hates him.

_“What?”_

Suddenly his face looms above hers, blocking out half the sky and that lonely, little twinkle. He grins at her. It’s so maddening that Artemis wants to punch him, shatter his calm. Because he’s irritating and he knows it, but he’s a masochist because he keeps on bugging the shit out of her when he’s aware she doesn’t pull her punches. Even for him.

“I’m happy _here,_ too. Really happy. _Over_ whelmingly happy. _Especially_ with you.”

He’s so _casual_ about it. Dick’s always making crazy declarations with such easy sincerity. It’s always off putting and Artemis feels her joints loosen against her will. Part of her clings to that white hot anger, but it’s getting harder to hold on in the face of Dick’s smile. She shimmies from beneath the beam of his smile, so she can sit up, leaning her weight onto her hands and let her hair tumble down the lean line of her back.

“Because I’m the only one who can stand you.”

She tried for resignation but sounded so fond. But she’s known him for at least three of the four years she’s known him. Dick certainly takes it as an invitation to crowd her again, straddling her lap. Briefly, she wonders when she went insane, because this doesn’t seem like something plain ole friends do. She doesn’t want it to stop. His warmth and weight feels good and it used to feel creepy to admit it, but now, it makes heat curl low in her belly.

“Is that so?”

The lenses in his mask aren’t fair. Because he can see her eyes drop to his clever little mouth, but she can’t tell if he _is_ watching her watch him or if he’s fixated on _her_ lips. Her eyes dart _lower._

“And apparently you’re the only one who’ll _stand_ for me.”

Bless Dick Grayson and his capacity for clumsy innuendos. He leans forward, balancing on his knees, so their lips barely brush. It’s a blatant tease, but Artemis can forgive him. Her toes curl at the closeness. It’s _intimate,_ and despite her claims to the contrary, holding people at arm’s length isn’t fun. Ever. And at this range, the lenses of his mask aren’t nearly as opaque; she thinks she sees his lashes brushing the topmost curve of his cheek.

“‘Mis.”

His voice is low and breathy, words ghosting between her parted lips. That’s all she needs.

She lunges forward, crushing their lips together. She’s greedy and hungry, skipping anything resembling chaste, and sucking Dick’s tongue into her mouth. He’s whining high and needy in the back of his throat, the rough texture of his glove palming the back of her neck, tangling in her honey gold hair, yanking her closer. She responds by pulling away from him, breaking off the kiss so suddenly Dick groans shamelessly at the lack of contact. Artemis doesn’t really care; he can _contribute_ all he wants, but she’s leading tonight.

He pants. But he’s still... pretty. _Beautiful,_ maybe. Even in the cover of night, Artemis can see the color blossoming in his cheeks, partially covered by the edges of Nightwing’s mask. His hair is mussed, and it’s probably because of the hand she’s got buried it. _Oh._ That makes her smile a little, lazy and slow. Dick shifts in her lap, pressing their hips into alignment. And the _pressure_ makes Artemis shudder.

“Is this... _okay?”_

He sounds dizzy, which says a lot, considering the guy free falls from skyscrapers on a nightly basis. Artemis feels a heady rush at the thought, smile widening as she pressed another, sweeter kiss to his lips.

“I’d’ve decked you if it wasn’t.”

He smiles back. She thinks she sees his eyes flick down in embarrassment or sudden shyness, but she can’t be sure because of those stupid lenses. She wants to his expression, so she can judge if he needs this as much as she does.

“What?”

Caught staring. _Brilliant._ Artemis has to think past the simmering warmth coiling tighter in her muscles, past the distracting taste of his mango chapstick on her lips. Her thoughts were jumbled, and her request came out hesitant.

“Can... I see your eyes?”

He chuckles. It’s a lot different from his cackle, which she hasn’t heard in years. She misses it, sometimes. But now’s really not the time to be nostalgic. Now’s the time to make some stars of her own.

Dick raises his hand and flicks down the lenses of his mask. Artemis wasn’t aware Bat Mask’s could do that. But apparently they do everything short of curing cancer. His eyes are big and blue and bright. Even in the dark, they shined.

“Getting lost in there?”

Artemis pulls him roughly down for another kiss. It’s messier than the last one, and it feeds the flame licking up her insides, burning between her legs.

_“Dick.”_

She means it in both senses. Probably more as an insult when he starts to move. At first it’s like he’s squirming in her lap, but every little motion sends sparks flashing up and down her spine, coaxing her legs open wider to accommodate him. It makes her think they should’ve done this _ages_ ago. But now is perfect too. And getting _more_ perfect as Dick starts to find a rhythm, grinding _down_ against her, so she _gasps_ each time his hips roll forward.

He chuckles again, breathless and teasing, and it’s infuriating enough that Artemis tugs _hard_ on his hair, jerking him forward for another bruising kiss. This time she _works_ his mouth open, the makes use of her teeth, biting at his swollen bottom lip. The tempo of his hips stutters, skips a beat. She’s feeling smug and almost breaks away to make some lame ass remark about it, but then Dick refocuses and _resumes,_ quickening his pace, so his hips snapped forward sending a jolt of unfiltered lust to her brain. _That_ can’t go unchallenged. She wants _more,_ wants something filthy and wet and she wants it now, with this beautiful boy.

Artemis _attacks,_ plunging her tongue in between Dick’s inviting lips, sliding her tongue along the roof of his mouth, thrusting in and out. He’s moaning, fighting to breathe, and Artemis can hear herself purring, grunting every time their hips meet. Dick’s legs are tightening, pressing in on the outside of her thighs, one hand fluttering down to the curve of her neck and shoulder, gripping her. She releases his hair. If groping is fair play, she’s going for his ass. It’s perfect. Round and firm and tight. She hums appreciatively before gasping loudly into Dick’s mouth. He’s rutting against her lap, hips dipping smoothly to grind against her. He’s trying to break away from the kiss to toss his head back, but Artemis has his bottom lip captured between her teeth and she needs a moment to process before she lets him go. This is _Dick._ He's graduated from Boy Wonder to Nightwing, he's playful and kind. He's a dependable friend and one of the hottest things on two legs. The sight of him riding her, head tossed back, eyes wide and pupils blown, is enough to send her brain into overload.

It’s **_sexiest_** thing Artemis has ever fucking seen, and there better be a goddamn repeat performance.

Dick’s movements are wild, and he’s losing rhythm, and Artemis thinks maybe all his delicious noise means he’s losing his mind. Artemis can’t stare at him, the line of his jaw, the muscles accentuated by skin tight kevlar tight, the sweat trickling down his hairline. She _can’t._ Her skin feels hot, _radiant_ and it’s building and building, scorching her insides. She slams her eyes shut, hips arching off the rooftop to meet his thrust head on, and she moans. Her mind is leaving her, her lips falling open as orgasm sweeps through her, warmth blooming between her thighs. She clutches Dick’s ass, tugging him down with her as she falls back on an elbow, panting, lashes low against her cheek.

“Oh, _fuck-- **Artemis--”**_

Bracing Dick’s weight turns out to be a _**fanfuckingtastic** _ idea.

He’s gasping her name, like a prayer offered to the goddess she is, hips still working frantically, coasting through the tail end of his own orgasm. He collapses against her, his nose poking the spot behind her ear, shifting in his positively _filthy_ suit. She grins. There’s something hugely satisfying about making a Bat kid lose his cool.

His arms wind around her neck, fingers sliding through her hair affectionately. His breath is hot and damp against her ear. Artemis almost shivers, tingles skittering along her skin. Already, she’s entertaining ideas about a round two. And since they both need to get out of their soiled costumes, they should both be naked for round two.

“‘Mis,” he murmured. His lips are at her ear again, teeth grazing the delicate shell of her ear. This time she definitely shudders, lust stirring sleepily around her midrift. “That was...”

Artemis is very open to a post humping cuddle. She’s less enthusiastic about the idea of Dick using one of his stupid words to describe the practically-sex they just had. It’s up in the air whether he’s aiming to get her riled up or if he’s too blissed out to find a better word. So she stops gripping his ass, grabbing a fistful of shocking soft hair and yanking him into another kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, thoughtful, with all underlying heat lurking just beneath the surface. Artemis pulls away with some difficulty, and Dick goes slack, head drooping as if without her mouth against his he’s got no vitality. Which is bullshit, but it’s a nice sentiment.

“Yeah...” Dick sighs, shocky and sated, raising his head a little, so he could smile at her. His lips are swollen and slick with spit. “Yeah, that, _exactly.”_ It’s scary how much Artemis _has_ to run her callused fingers along his jaw, tip his head up further, and kiss him again. He hums happily, hands leaving her hair and sliding to her shoulders, gripping her and rubbing her with the grip of his gloves. The _texture_ on her bare skin sparks another idea in Artemis’s fertile imagination.

“We need to change,” Artemis spoke when they both were dizzy with lack of oxygen. “Mom’s home...”

“But Bruce isn’t,” Dick finished, shifting in her lap, using her to push himself to his feet. He towers above her, grinning at her. She’s almost knocked speechless, the enormity of what was happening, what was going to happen, what they had hitting her like a sack of wet cement. But the Nightwing suit isn’t black, so she can see a darker patch of fabric on his crotch. So she smirks pointedly, making Dick blush. But his eyes flick from hers down to the stain decorating _her_ pants so she shuts up and takes his hand. Her underwear is starting to feel a little gross.

Their hands stay twined together as they stroll to the edge of the rooftop. Dick looks down at their motorcycles parked in the alley, and, boy, was _that_ going to be a fun ride with soiled panties.

She glances up, but she lost track of where her lonely little star went. But it was alright. Soon, she and Dick would see some stars of their _own._

**Author's Note:**

> And then actual sex happened. Twice.


End file.
